


That one cage fix-it fic

by TerraCottaNightmare



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, The Cage, but not like you expect, could be seen as dean bashing?, shameless fix-it, spoilers through season ten, this is probably crap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraCottaNightmare/pseuds/TerraCottaNightmare
Summary: Dean makes a different choice at the end of season ten. Sam learns that things are different than he thought. The other three just want him to feel okay again.





	1. In which Sam dies

**Author's Note:**

> In which Dean makes a choice and Sam dies.

He closes his eyes. The pain is sharp and sudden-- the fact that he knows it's coming does nothing to dull it. His neck is on fire, but his eyes stay closed. He will not look at the man who killed him.   
He falls sideways, and then he's falling further than should be possible, down in a way that he remembers and does not.  
He does not hit the ground, he just... stops. Instantaneously. There is no jerk, no whiplash or recoil. He is falling and then he is not. His eyes remain closed.  
There is a noise above him, someone calling his name and there is sensation, warmth on his shoulders and grass under his knees and he's pitching forward onto all fours, trembling violently.  
His interest is piqued but he will not open his eyes. Not now, hopefully not ever again. Hands grip his shoulders and he is being raised up, back into his knees and he's flinching, waiting for another blow, another strike, physical or emotional from the man who killed him.  
Not his brother. He hasn't been acting like his brother for a long time, but it would break something inside him to acknowledge that the man who killed him was--  
The voice is clearer and familiar, now that he is listening past the ringing in his ears, but it's also impossible. His ears insist they're right even as his mind boggles.  
He opens his eyes and comes face to face with his brother.


	2. In which realizations are had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are realized and Sam is confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise these will get longer as soon as I get into the swing of the story. Until then, enjoy!

He's awake but his eyes stay closed, clinging to the vestiges of sleep. Rarely does he find peace enough in the world or his mind to rest and he's learned to milk it for all it's worth.  
He sighs. Peace of mind is relative, it seems. Funny when "peace" includes dreams of Dean--  
Dean.  
A heartbeat.  
He is sitting and attempting to stand before he remembers. He falls back on the bed and closes his eyes.  
Dean.  
Sam sighs and does what he does best-- represses any and all brother related trauma to unpack later as necessary. He has more pressing issues.  
The bed is way too soft, the comforter the wrong texture. In short, he has no idea where he is.  
He sits once more, frowning. He isn't tied up or otherwise restrained, and while the room is bland, there's at least fifteen- no, sixteen things he could use as weapons if it came down to it. So he's not being held captive, or at least not by anyone who knows what they're doing.  
He stands and winces. His shirt is thoroughly ruined, soaked with blood. At least the jeans might be salvageable, if that even matters wherever he is.  
The room is what he assumes would pass for nondescript for most, though he actually fits on the bed and wouldn't have to duck to fit through the door frame. There's a honey brown desk in the corner, which matches the bed frame and the dresser. The duvet and walls are an understated burgundy. All in all, a nice room but not one he recognizes.  
Not heaven, then. Sam chuckles quietly. Not that that was a likely solution in any conceivable reality, if he was honest.  
Still, it didn't exactly match up with Dean's tales of fire and brimstone, torture for an eternity. Maybe like heaven, it tailors itself to a person's individual perception? Or had he been set aside, like Crowley had done with Bobby? He glances around. The décor makes Crowley's involvement unlikely.  
Another possibility blares to the forefront of his mind, one he'd tried to silence with little success. It's hardly likely, he argues to himself. It had taken 66 seals to open the damn thing in the first place, and he'd gotten out.  
Sam's thumbnail presses into his palm and he freezes. The original wound had healed years ago, but he'd slashed his palm on a shard of glass only a day or so ago. The wound was clear as day as he raises it to his eyes.  
It isn't working. He pushes insistently against his palm even as the icy tendrils of fear settle around him like fingers.  
The door opens, though he's far too busy to notice until suddenly his brother is in front of him once again. Sam's eyes are wide. He frantically scratches at his hand until he's stilled.  
Adam smiles hesitantly. "Hey Sam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you go. Done with the pronoun game for now. Next chapter we'll get some explanations and all the good stuff, until then I hope you enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> I know what you're thinking. "Nightmare, you have two WIPs already! What the hell?" My answer? I know. I haven't slept in a week, I was weak, I was awake, you've never seen a bastard author more in need of a break. Longing for my computer, missing my wifi, that's when this plot bunny walked into my life.  
> I'm sorry.  
> It's like two am send help


End file.
